My senses prepared a ritual of exorcism to leave my body

Candles that lit the room were driving demons crazy

Emotions of hate and anger won the battle but in haze

Madness pulls darkness curtains over a disturbed mind as it lays

In fear the necromancer of my dead spirit fled from this insanity

My heart got tossed and broke to million shards of locks with no key

Lost in storm of cursed prayers of forbidden potions and hex

Falling in my own misery where fate and destiny can’t find on the index

My life book stopped at a torn paper with ink of torment

Wasn’t written by destiny but an angel with a reason meant

On a rainy night celebrating arrival of loneliness as it advents

Being popular.

Being known.

Being liked.

Being accepted.

When you’re popular life is great.

You have so many friends and trendy clothes.

And best of all everyone accepts you.

But when they accept you,

They don’t accept you as you.

They accept the person you created.

The person you changed yourself into.

You changed everything that made you.

Everything all your true friends loved.

The people who truly care are now gone.

They don’t understand how you can just change.

How you can just stop being their friend.

They wonder why you weren’t happy with them.

Why you had to get new friends that don’t care like they do.

But now they don’t care anymore.

You left them for a group of people.

People that don’t actually like you.

This group of people who feed on the fear of others.

They have nothing better to do with their life.

Seeking the weak and vulnerable.

Making them change, only to be disappointed.

You realize they were just playing a game.

Just messing with your mind and life.

Ruining everything.

But your true friends see what they’ve done.

They take you back with one condition.

Don’t make the mistake of changing.

Changing to please someone else.

Raise your eye gaze at the shattered body you called yours

I pity my pathetic figure as I locked behind me 20 doors

Your flaws became a poem I prayed to forget and die

A vision of the hands I called home on someone else no deny

Seeing those hands marked with a different scent than mine

Your face shows no remorse but proud to be on cloud nine

Live your fantasies for I am real

Quite high than your mistress, I’ll make you kneel

Love's a rollercoaster

It starts out fast

Gets even faster

You climb higher and higher

There's a moment as yiur suspended in air

Then comes the drop

The turn

The screeching halt

And then you're back in line to do it all over again.

But is the ride worth it?

It never happens the way you see it in movies- the long soliloquy of tumbling words followed by the quiet sobs.

No, it's more likely to be

words are cut off

with tears

choking

every syllable

words strangled

at the top of the throat

words stopped up

with crying jags

like cotton stuffing

in a soda pop bottle

that's been shaken

and nearly poured out.